Pineapples Are Sticky Sweet
by invisalite
Summary: "So…" he started shyly, tracing patterns on Carlton's tie, "That help you enough?" Established Shassie, slash. Inspired by Sticky Sweet by Erin McCarley. Don't like, don't read. T for implications. I don't own anything but my storyline.


**A/N: For those of you who know this song, it _so_ does describe them. Perfectly. For all of you who don't know the song, _please_ look it up! Erin McCarley's an amazing singer, and this song is one of her best in my opinion. Also, it will help with how the story is actually structured... somewhat. As per usual, read and review, even if it's just a comment! Thanks for all your guys' support.**

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**Sticky Sweet – Erin McCarley**

"Lassie!"

Shawn's joyful greeting rang through the precinct to the rhythm of Gus's footsteps. Carlton perked up at the sound of his boyfriend's voice.

"Sha—Spencer."

"What did I say about not calling me by my first name?" the fake psychic whined. He went for a frown, but then decided a pout was more fitting.

"Shawn! This is _not_ what we came here for," Gus muttered, slapping his friend's arm. Shawn slapped him back.

The older man fought back the urge to start laughing at Shawn's ridiculous behavior, but his lips betrayed him. He could feel the corners of his mouth twitch upward in a smile. Which turned pouty Shawn into smiling Shawn.

"Knew I could get you to smile," the younger man said in a singsong voice. He skipped towards Lassiter's desk and sat down on it. Discretely looking at a file, he beckoned for the head detective to come and follow him.

The instant Carlton saw which file Shawn was looking at, a wave of hopelessness crashed over him. It was _that_ file. The case that had been sitting open on his back for over three weeks. He sighed heavily.

"Spe—Shawn, do I _really_ have to go over _that_ one with you?"

There was no response from the usually noisy man, just the normal "I'm psychic" pose. Suddenly, Shawn started crashing around the precinct in an unusually noisy psychic vision with the usual routine of touching Lassiter inappropriately. Carlton managed to restrain himself and settled for a growl. He could tell by the way Shawn's eyebrows waggled that the growl sounded more like a purr. Damn.

"Lassie, Jules! Call him in! His name is… is… Jingle? Heimer? And there are so many people screaming his name. With, for a strange reason, 'doctor' added in at the end."

"Who?" Juliet asked, a quizzical look in her eyes.

"Dr. J. Jacob Schmidt," Gus interpreted, shaking his head. "Really, you guys, have you never heard the song?"

Lassiter cracked another smile at Guster's humor and felt relief wash over him. They were going to get the bad guy and he would be behind bars. And all thanks to Shawn. Who happened to be really close and staring up into his eyes.

"So…" he started shyly, tracing patterns on Carlton's tie, "That help you enough?"

The head detective's most genuine smile along with brilliant baby blue eyes gave Shawn his answer. As the Juliet, Gus, and the other officers cleared the bullpen, returning to their desks, he leaned in subtly towards his boyfriend.

"How do you do it?" He put his hand on Shawn's shoulder and brought him close.

"You already know the answer, Carly-town."

Carlton smirked a little.

"I'm not buying the 'I'm psychic' gig, I've already told you."

Both men turned to face Juliet who announced herself with a clearing of her throat and a sharp smile.

"It's seven, Carlton. You're off-duty now, if you'd like to continue this elsewhere."

Shawn shared a wink with the junior detective as she turned back towards her desk.

"Take me home, Lassie?"

"No, Shawn."

The fake psychic pouted, before being surprised by the massive curveball that Carlton threw.

"Take me home to your secret, your white sanctuary."

The younger man's jaw dropped slightly as he blushed seven different shades of red.

"Uh, Lassie, I—sweet pineapples, _yes, I will_."

Carlton couldn't help but grin at the way Shawn skipped out the door.

_I love you, Shawn,_ he thought. _I love you._

w w w w w

Carlton hated Shawn.

After an _amazing _night with his boyfriend, Lassiter had woken up sore, cranky, and _late for work._

"Shit, Shawn, you know I can't sleep in! You turned off the alarm clock, didn't you?"

The fake psychic rolled over to face the source of the angry noise.

"Take a chill pill, Lassifrass, I called in for you already. Said you're not coming in today, you're sick."

Carlton stared and gaped at Shawn for a little bit, before the gravity of the action sank in.

"I don't know whether to thank you or just kill you right now."

"I think I'd prefer option one myself, thanks."

The head detective sighed and slumped back down under the warm covers. He jumped a little as he felt cold arms wrap around his torso.

"Sweet Justice, Shawn, you're _freezing_!"

"Who wouldn't have to take a cold shower after sleeping next to you?"

Lassiter blinked, smacked Shawn's arm, and then hugged his boyfriend close to him.

"You're sick, you know that?"

The younger man smiled and moved closer in to his companion.

"Last time I checked, I was clean."

w w w w w

Carlton and Shawn hadn't moved for the rest of the morning. The head detective had been so happy that morning that he had thrown even his boyfriend for a loop. When asked for a reason, he provided nothing more than something about silver glows and happy music in his head. Finally out of bed and in the kitchen making breakfast, Shawn turned to him.

"Lassie?"

"Yeah?"

"You're a sap."

Lassiter's mouth twitched before he burst out laughing. He moved behind Shawn and slid his right arm around his waist. Leaning down, he kissed the fake psychic and pulled away grinning widely.

"It's all because you're just sticky sweet on me."

The younger man smiled, turned around, and captured Carlton's mouth in another kiss.

"Maybe, just maybe, in a couple of years, you'll be as awesome as I am."

"Shut up, Shawn."

"Just sayin'!"


End file.
